Patrick

It's her stupid red shoes, they make me miss her even more she'd call me at 9, she'd want me to come lay under the stars with her we'd pick out constellations, naming them after people we once knew but all i'll hear now is the reminiscence of her voice over that awkward dial tone & i'd tell her to find the same star i'm looking at, as long as that star was still there, we'd be happy i left monday, i left for good now all i get is phone calls, its been weeks, and weeks, since that last call that star burnt out last night well i got a call, she killed herself.